


Sk8er Boi

by MasterJiggywiggy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: I have no idea where I'm going with this but I know it's going to be great, M/M, Mikasa is nothing like she should be, i can feel it, thi sis so ooc oops, this is a stupid fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 05:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasterJiggywiggy/pseuds/MasterJiggywiggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stage is set at Trost High School. Two boys who are afraid of loving each other enter stage right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, while I was doing JeanMarco week I realized that i really love writing them. So, here is my JeanMarco high school AU featuring Punk rock Jean because I love the idea of a punk rock Jean. I hope you will enjoy it! Cheesy summary and title oops.

Marco sipped on his coffee, savoring the way the heat rushed down his throat, as he lumbered up the path to his A hour mythology class. Skateboard wheels ground against the concrete – the sound of Jean's arrival. “Hey, Jean,” the freckled boy acknowledged without even turning around. 

“How'd you know it was me?” he sounded surprised. As he advanced to Marco's side he kicked his skateboard up into his hands and placed it under his arm.

“I'm thoroughly convinced you can smell McDonald's from a mile away,” Marco chuckled as he glanced over the McCafe cup, eyes squinted from the cool breeze wafting around them. 

“Maybe,” Jean laughed as he swiped the coffee out of Marco's gloved hands. 

“Swiper no swiping!” Marco joked as he punched Jean lightly in the arm. 

“You didn't say it three times,” Jean joked as he took a sip. 

Marco smiled, his cheeks becoming more rosy with the movement. “Why are you even here? You don't have an A hour.” 

“To steal your coffee,” Jean quipped. 

“No, seriously.”

“Dunno,” the icy breeze was blowing his bangs up and over the top part of his beanie. The skin around his piercings looked tormented; Eyebrow, nose, and lip were willing the metal away. 

“Sure you don't,” Marco never accepted Jean's easy, joke answers...Most of the time, that's all they ever were. “I have to get to class.”

“Why are you in such a hurry? You've got like ten minutes to spare.”

“What? Do you want me to hang out with you til then?”

“Um...Yes?”

“Aha! So that's why you showed up early. You just wanted to see me,” Marco said smugly.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jean laughed. “Why do you take Mythology anyways? What's that going to help you with?”

“Advanced English classes will look better on college applications,” he shrugged, scarf falling lose as he did. Before he could reach up to fix it, Jean's hands were already at work threading the scarf through itself so that it wouldn't come lose again. Marco shot him a quizzical look, eyebrows raised slightly. 

“You'll, uh, get a cold,” he said, trembling hand pointing to the snow flakes fluttering around them. A rose tint entered his cheeks that was not from the low temperature. Before Marco could process what was happening, Jean's lips were hovering near his. 

“I have to go,” Marco said flatly as he pulled his face away and began walking away. 

“Why?” Jean shouted after him.

“I have class, Kirstein,” Marco reverted to using last names when he was angry with people. 

“No! I mean...Why...” 

“Because we're at school,” Marco quipped, avoiding the question as he stomped up the sidewalk. Jean was left in his wake, fist entwined in the longer, black parts of his hair. 

Things had been like this with Marco and Jean for a while now and no one ever noticed it because they both acted like they weren't even friends. 

Jean was one of the punks in school. His hair was unwashed, two toned, shaggy, and normally mostly hidden by a beanie. Messy black makeup lined his eyes most days. Under his bloodshot eyes there were bags from nights he spent up doing absolutely nothing about school work and playing guitar. He had his left eyebrow pierced, his right nostril, a left side upper lip piercing, and a right side lower lip piercing. His clothes were worn out and dotted with holes. Pants hung low on his hips- low enough to make all the girls swoon, but not low enough to get him dress-coded. Beat up, leather combat boots were his footwear of choice. He didn't give a shit about anything. He was the punk of the punks at Trost High. The modified (spikes, studs, patches, various other things) leather jacket was the cherry on top. 

Then there was Marco. Marco was at the top of his class, clean, and spent his nights studying. Clear eyed, he showed up early to everything determined to do his best and bring the best out in others. A shaggy mop of brown hair sat atop his head. Wearing simple tees and jeans, he kept his wardrobe simple. The freckles on his face (and everywhere else) were what people identified him by. Other than that, he was fairly average on the Trost High scale. 

The two did have some things in common though – They secretly liked each other and neither was comfortable with their confused sexuality. The only sleepless nights Marco spent up were on the phone with Jean, listening as he spoke and absentmindedly strummed on his guitar. Always, the next day Jean would act as though they had never spoke. 

Classes that day were difficult for Marco. He pondered his way through them and wrote down just enough to get his homework done. Thoughts of Jean danced through his mind. Each time he saw him on campus though, he would turn and walk the other way leaving a confused Jean in his wake. 

Jean got in more trouble than usual during the day. His pissy attitude was reflected in everything he was doing. Jean skipped his first hour to grab some McDonald’s. He was sent to the office for having his boots up on the desk during third hour. A typical day for him, really. Eren was in the office with him, which was also typical.

“I pissed Marco off,” he whined as he plopped down on one of the office's cushioned chairs. 

“Again?” Eren asked, gingerly touching the split adorning the middle of his lower lip. 

“Again,” Jean hissed and put his face in his hands. 

“Marco is so nice, man. You're the only one he's ever mad at. Maybe it's because you're just an ass.” A smirk formed on Eren's bloodied lips.

“I am not,” Jean protested. He peeked through his fingers, “could you talk to him for me?” 

“Yea,” Eren agreed. “You two are gay as fuck,” he added after a minute of silence.

“I'm not gay, Yeager!” Jean shouted. The office aid shushed him and was rewarded with getting the finger....and that's how Jean got assigned lunch detention. A detention he was likely to skip in favor of McDonald's. 

“Whatever, horse face,” Eren teased as he was summoned to the principal's office. The principal was mumbling something about Eren getting into another fight. Typical. Eren was that angry kid in school that would get in a fight if you even looked at him wrong. He picked all the fights but he didn't always win as he split lip suggests. 

Eren and Jean were best friends even though they hated each other half of the time and spent the other half teasing the other unmercifully. They had been close their whole life and everyone assumed that was why they butted heads so often, but it was really because they had the same I-don't-give-a-fuck-get-out-of-my-face attitude. 

With all the similarities, it was strange that Jean had so many more friends than Eren. It probably had something to do with level of attractiveness. Jean was hot. And Eren, well, he was average by Trost High standards. He wore old band tees, skinny jeans, and converse. His hair was dyed black and shaggy, hanging down into his eyes. His hidden eyes were a spectacular emerald green. If he cut his hair a bit, he could make the girls swoon as much as Jean did. 

At lunch, Marco was sitting alone at a paper strew table. When Eren swaggered over, you could almost see Marco's attitude become sour. “Hey, freckles,” he said. 

“Yeager,” Marco acknowledged before shoving his nose back into his text book.

“Jean wants to know-” 

“And why can't Jean ask me whatever it is himself?” Marco cut him off, a particular venom lacing Jean's name. 

“Well, uh...Damn. Why are you so mad at him?” Eren gave up trying to answer Marco's question. (He didn't realize it was rhetorical.) 

“If he wants to know he can ask me himself.” 

“Okay,” Eren trailed off. “Jean!” he shouted. 

At his call, Jean's head poked out from around one of the beams holding up the canopy above the lunch area. Marco rolled his eyes. Cautiously, Jean approached the table. “Get out of here, Yeager,” he commanded as he walked up. 

Eren obliged, snickering at something as he wandered away. 

“What do you want, Jean?” Marco shot at the boy standing next to him. 

“I want. to know why you've been avoiding me,” he sounded almost like a small child as he spoke. 

“Because you're an asshole,” the freckled boy said simply. 

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I am not. Totally not an asshole,” Jean continued to defend himself. 

“Whatever, Jean.” Marco returned to his class work. 

“Come to my house after school,” Jean asked suddenly. 

“No,” Marco said immediately. 

“Please,” Jean equipped his puppy dog eyes. 

“Fine, Jean. Whatever. I'll come over,” Marco caved. Jean smiled like an idiot, bobbing his head like a seal. “That's not very punk rock of you,” Marco noted. At that mention, Jean immediately regained his cool demeanor, only breaking it to stick his pierced tongue out at Marco (who was now smiling).


	2. Chapter 2

Small raindrops splattered against the windshield as he drove. Marco traveled the way he normally would since Jean lived just a few houses down from him. Three driveways away from his own he pulled in and parked. Jean was sitting on the front steps, twiddling his thumbs, waiting. “Hey, slow poke,” was his greeting as he approached Marco who was now closing the driver's side door. 

“You said four and it's not even three fifty,” Marco pointed out as he looked down at the ticking hands of his wrist watch. 

Jean only shrugged.

“If you're going to be weird, I'm just going to leave,” the freckled boy warned, jerking a thumb backwards.

“No. I'm not going to be weird,” Jean assured.

“Okay,” Marco sighed. 

Jean led him into the house, halting at the door so that they could take off their shoes. “Mom is weird about it,” Jean said in a terribly inaccurate imitation of his mother's voice. Then down the stairs to his basement room they went.

“Wow, I really like what you've done with the place,” Marco noted as he gazed around the large room. Annie's drum set was set up by the wall in front of the small staircase leading into the room. The dull lighting in the room did nothing to compliment the metallic purple color of it. On the left side of that sat Jean's acoustic and electric guitars, along with his microphone and stand. Various cords hung on pegs along the walls. Clothes and an assortment of items were strewn about the floor by his bed in the corner opposite the wall that was home to the guitars. Blankets and pillows were piled haphazardly on the end of the queen sized mattress sitting on the floor. His night side table was stacked with papers and pens were almost tipping off every edge. A dresser was sitting near the small staircase. Two bean bags sat in the middle of the floor in front of the television that was perched atop the dresser. 

“Annie keeps her drums here now?” Marco asked. 

“Yea, she said it was easier to just come over and practice here,” Jean shrugged.

“Doesn't that get a bit annoying?”

“Nah. I like listening to her play. It's relaxing. She's so good.”

“I've never heard her play.”

“You should come over when we're practicing sometime then,” Jean offered.

“I may...” Marco trailed off. Pinned to the wall above the lamp of the night side table was an old photo of Jean and Marco together. “Wow, this is old,” he said as he stumbled over and examined it.

“Yea, middle school. Seventh grade if I remember right.” 

“Yep, seventh grade,” Marco smiled. “I'm surprised you've kept it.”

“I miss the way things were before,” Jean confessed, a sad tone lacing his silky voice. 

“What do you mean?” Marco asked, turning around to face the punk. Jean was putting a CD into his player. The Used's Lies For the Liars, it was an album that brought back many fond middle school memories. 

“Remember? We used to be really close then... I don't know what happened,” Jean shook his head slightly as he stepped over the piles of things on his floor to sit on the edge of his mattress. 

“Feelings happened, that's what,” Marco said with a gloomy laugh. As he spoke, he wandered over and sat next to Jean. As the CD played, the two boys talked and talked, reminiscing about their middle school days and of the day they met in elementary school. Someone had made fun of Marco's freckles and then left him sad and alone on a bench in the school yard. Jean strolled by and turned back when he noticed the sad boy. From that day forward, they were nearly inseparable. Then high school came and things between them got weird. Jean became closer with Eren and Marco met his best friend, Armin. _'Let me be the one who calls you baby all the time,”_ were the lyrics flowing from the speakers. Contentedness clouded Jean's eyes as he gazed at Marco, staring at his many freckles and then down to his pink lips. 

“What's up?” Marco asked when he noticed the odd look in his friend's eyes. 

Jean crawled closer to Marco from where he was laying on his stomach. _“Surely you can take some comfort knowing that you're mine,”_ as the words echoed around the room, Jean leaned in close to Marco's face and kissed him. First it was only a peck. When the kiss was returned it graduated to more and more of an intimate thing. Before long, Marco's hands were running up Jean's back to entwine themselves in his hair. Their lips pressed hard together, saying things the two of them could not admit. 

When Jean pulled away he was smiling. When Marco pulled away his mouth was hanging slightly agape. “You kissed me,” he gasped. 

“You kissed back.”

“Why did you kiss me?” 

“Because I've wanted to...” Jean admitted quietly. 

“...I have too...” Marco said after a few moments of silence. 

* * *

All of Marco's hopes were dashed when he saw Jean at school the next day. With a smile, he walked over to join Jean and Eren who were standing next to their open lockers. “Hey,” he muttered as he came up next to Jean. Eren grinned. Jean moved a few steps to the side, away from the freckled boy's side. Hurt made an appearance in Marco's eyes. “Fuck you, Jean,” he sighed as he turned and walked away, the situation leaving a strange feeling in his heart. The boy he had shared his first kiss with the night before was now shying away from him. _He was the one who kissed me,_ was the thought swirling around in Marco's confused mind. _Why did he move away from me?_

He'd done it again. Jean pissed off Marco once again, after such a good start too. _Why did I do that?,_ he scolded himself and Eren looked disapprovingly at him. 

“Just admit it,” Eren said suddenly.

“Admit what, Yeager?” the punk snapped.

“That you like Marco.”

“...I don't.”

“Then what was that?”

“Fuck,” Jean shook his head.

“What happened between you two yesterday?” The curiosity must have been eating at Eren. 

Jean answered Eren's question as sparingly as he could manage. All the little details he had been turning over in his mind tried to hard to escape.

“You're gay,” Eren said.

“No, I'm not!” Jean continued to defend himself.

“Okay, then you're bi,” he let up. “You kissed Marco,” he added when Jean once again defended his sexuality. 

“That's...different.”

“What? How? Does he have a pussy? No. I didn't think so.”

Jean looked down at the ground, “I fucked up, eh?”

“Yea, you did,” Eren said as he slammed his locker shut. “Get over yourself and do something about it.” Walking away, he left Jean alone to think over his mistake and find a way of making it up to Marco. 

* * * 

Marco made it a point to avoid Jean the whole day at school. It really wasn't that difficult if he just stayed in the library – Jean never went to the library. (Marco figured he was afraid of it or something. All the studying occurring within probably unnerved him. That and the librarians didn't look kindly on the jingling of the chains attached to his pants...and boots.) His thoughts still wandered to Jean more often than he would like. _Honk,_ a driver slammed on their horn as Marco sat at the light after it had turned green, still lost in thought. Flustered and angry, he eventually made it back home. Thoughts of the softness of Jean Kirstein's lips made things so much harder. His first kiss had been with Jean. Last night. And now this? The boy was lost in his thoughts.

He spent the night like that. When dinner came around, he only nibbled at the steak on his plate and moved his food around. After that, the night was spent listening to Lies for the Liars which helped nothing. Nine pm rolled around and a small tapping began to slowly drown out his music and rip him from his thoughts. Jean was outside, throwing rocks up at his room's window on the second story. After the tapping became unbearable, Marco went over and opened the window. “What?” he shouted down at the boy standing in his backyard.

“I'm sorry!” Jean shouted back. He sounded sincere but the wound was still too fresh.

“Fuck off,” Marco said, slamming the window shut. The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Jean's apology rang in his ears. He went to sleep, finding no comfort in being awake.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking a lot about where I want this story to go and I think I finally know. I think. Let's hope it turns out well!   
> This chapter is just short because I think the next chapter is going to be very crucial.

Marco tossed in his sleep, dreaming of the day before. The photo of them in the seventh grade sucked him in and he realized that the feelings he felt now were the same as they were then. Regret's chilly hand snatched the freckled boy from his slumber. Jean had kept that photo all these years. The wear and tear on the edges suggested many sleepless, nostalgia filled nights. Perhaps Jean really did care...Maybe he just didn't know how to show it. These thoughts played tag in Marco's mind, alternating between different variations of the same thing. 

He decided on believing that Jean did genuinely care. The bad taste from all the words he'd said was in his mouth again. Vowing to speak to him at school, Marco got up and got ready. The time and thoughts he had left afterward were all spent on Jean and the kiss that they shared. 

Jean wasn't at school though. Not that that was in anyway unusual, but Marco felt himself responsible. 

Armin and Marco were walking to their second hour together when the blonde boy finally decided to speak up, “what's wrong?”

“Nothing...” Marco lied. 

“No. I'm your best friend. I know when something is wrong,” they had been friends for years now.

“Jean...” Marco shook his head slightly. 

Armin sighed, shaking his head in a way that suggested that he was used to fixing Marco after Jean's mistakes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly....And not at school.”

“Do you want to come over to my place after school?” Armin offered. 

“Yea, I'd like that,” Marco accepted, a slight smile forcing its way onto his face. 

Armin had always been good at comforting people. He was awkward and bookish like Marco. (They'd met in the library, actually.) His features were so delicate they made him seem like he should still be in middle school. To combat the youngish look of his face, Armin had been growing his hair out all year. Currently, it was just past his ear lobes. He couldn't do much with it except awkwardly tie up half of it in the back. His bangs were almost straight across except for the little bit of wave his blond hair held. (He lived with his grandfather who was adamant about Armin's eyes being uncovered.) Baby blue was the color of his big, innocent eyes. 

(Sometimes it seemed to Marco that Armin looked up to Jean. Every once in a while he'd refuse to conform or try out wearing eyeliner. It was like he was slowly trying to become a punk. The thought of Armin the punk was one Marco went to when he was feeling down.)

Jean didn't show up half way through the day like he would most times when he skipped. His absence only made his presence in the freckled boy's mind stronger. Going to Armin's would be a welcome relief. 

Armin's home was small, but it was enough for him and his grandfather. After Armin's parents died in a work related accident, his grandfather got full custody. Life was hard for Armin but he never allowed his pain to shine through. 

His room was small and full of books. It was cozy. The two of them sat on the bed, pulling the comforter over their laps. “It's been really cold lately,” Marco noted. 

“Well, it is December,” Armin said with a laugh. 

“Yea, yea. The snow on the ground doesn't help a thing.”

Armin smiled. After an hour or so of small talk, he tackled the issue at hand, “so, what's been bothering you?”

“Jean...”

“I know that part, but what has he done now?”

“Well...” Marco's cheeks turned slightly red, “he, uh....He kissed me.” Marco threw his face in his hands. Marco sighed and proceeded to explain the entire situation to Armin is excruciatingly good detail. They discussed various ways that Marco could apologize for his harsh words since Armin could not convince him that he didn't need to apologize. It was Jean who had made the mistake after all. 

Marco decided on writing a letter and planned to work on it right when he arrived home but there was a surprise waiting for him. On his pillow, there was a box of his favorite chocolate truffles and a mix tape full of sappy apology songs. Most of the songs, Marco thought, were things Jean would never listen to. They all held the same message though - I'm sorry and I need you in my life.

Marco's smile could have brought joy to the saddest person just then. The sun had gone down long ago, and the night was peaceful. With pep in his step, the freckled boy traveled three houses down. To the back of the house he went, bending over to knock on the small basement window. The absent minded guitar strumming coming from the room ceased almost immediately and then Jean was there at the window. His eyes were bright and his nose was Rudolph red. It looked as though he had been crying. “I'm sorry,” he said immediately, reaching out to grab one of Marco's gloved hands. “I'm really sorry.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long to post this! Life has been really...Hectic lately. I've had a lot to do and haven't really been in the best spot so writing has taken the back burner. But I'm trying to be a bit better now.   
> I dunno how I feel about this chapter but I kinda know where I'm going with this story now. So, yay!   
> If I don't update for a while just kick my butt via Tumblr. http://nug-humping-dirt-farmer.tumblr.com

“I am too...” Marco said. “I'm really sorry.”

“Why?” Jean asked as he watched Marco slide into his room through the too small window, paying too close of attention as the wooden frame snagged cotton and revealed a freckled torso. His focus was forced elsewhere as the freckled boy adjusted the fabric once he back on his own two feet again.

“Because I was really nasty,” Marco murmured. 

“No, you had every reason to be mad. Don't worry about it,” Jean assured, hand waving to the side nonchalantly.

Marco nodded uneasily, unsure of how to continue the conversation now that he had said what he set out to say.

“Do you, uh,” he cleaned his throat, “wanna watch a movie? I just got an old copy of some Godzilla movie,” Jean offered. (He enjoyed thrift shopping and 'old Godzilla movies' were the type of things he would purchase.) “Since it's Friday and all...”

“Yea, I'd like that.,” Marco smiled. 

So that's what the boys did. They lay on Jean's bed, trying to pay attention to the movie on the screen. Their eyes, they found, spent more time on each other than they did on the screen. Somewhere in the hour and a half of the movie their hands found their way to each other. Surprisingly, it was Jean who ensured the hand holding continued. His thumb stroked the side of the freckled boy's, savoring the feeling of the smooth, tanned skin. Marco fell fast asleep focusing on the rhythm of Jean's thumb dancing across his skin. In his sleep he clung to Jean, cuddling into him like a giant teddy bear. Jean didn't shy away from the contact. Awkwardly, he wrapped his arm around the sleeping boy. He flicked through the channels on the television, landing on a couple different mindless shows before he too fell asleep. 

Marco rose first and left to get his school work before slipping back to sleeping Jean. When Jean awoke, Marco had his homework spread out about the floor. “It's too early for academics,” he yawned. 

“It's one in the afternoon, Jean,” Marco pointed at the digital clock on the dresser. 

“Oh.” He looked up at the ceiling for a bit before adding, “still too early for school work.” Patting the spot of bed next to him, he summoned Marco. 

Rolling his eyes, Marco got up and joined the punk. “What?”

“Just wondering what you want to do today,” Jean hummed, drumming his fingers on Marco's spine. 

“You,” Marco murmured under his breath, watching the way Jean's arm flexed and moved as he drummed his fingers. 

“What?” Jean asked.

“Nothing,” Marco covered up his words, “um, I dunno. What do you want to do?”

Thinking for a moment, Jean came up with, “will you dye my hair for me?”

“What? Why do you want to dye your hair?”

“I just want red in my hair,” Jean shrugged. “I have the dye...It's somewhere in here.” Mountains of filth stood between him and finding the round tub of red hair dye. 

Taking in the surroundings, Marco sighed, “well, we better start looking then. And I'll only dye some of it.”

“Why?” Jean whined. 

“I like your blond hair,” Marco said simply. Looking around, he said, “maybe we should clean your room first.” 

“You're so lame.” 

Between all the play wrestling and throwing random objects at each other they didn't get much cleaning done. Everything that was spread out around the floor got pushed against one wall. 

* * * 

There was no denying that Jean looked really amazing with his now three tone hair. Red chunks were spread throughout the blonde. Jean wouldn't stop checking it out in the mirror, “I love it!” His eyes narrowed at his reflection, “there is a spot of red dye on my nose...And It looks like a zit.” 

Marco couldn't stifle his laugh. Jean the hardcore punk was worried over zits and splotches that could potentially be mistaken for zits.

“What?! I actually do take care of myself, contrary to popular belief,” Jean snapped. 

“This is the first time I've seen you with clean hair, I think.” 

Running a hand through the length of his fluffy hair, Jean retorted, “Shut the fuck up”

* * * 

When seven p.m rolled around, Marco and Jean parted. (Marco quite enjoys his family dinners.)

Marco spent his night forcing his wandering mind to focus on the history work in from of him. What he really wanted to think of was three doors down, strumming on a guitar. Jean played tunes that sounded suspiciously like love songs all through the night. 

When school rolled around again, the boys didn't even mention Friday night. There was a silent, mutual agreement to keep it their own. They didn't speak at all that Monday. Occasionally they'd catch each other's staring eyes during class. Marco would smile and Jean would quickly focus his attention back to the lecture. 

“Hey, Jean! Jean!” Eren shouted across the hallway as he loped over to Jean's locker.

“Hey, Yeager, why so excited?” Jean asked. “I don't think I've ever seen you run like that.”

“Yea, yea, fuck you,” Eren huffed.

Jean laughed. “What's going on though?”

“Oh! Mikasa is coming back!” Mikasa was Eren's sister. A couple years back she got accepted into a foreign study program. Since then she'd been in school in Japan. 

“Oh shit, really? How long has she been gone now?” Jean questioned, reminiscing of his past love interest.

“Two years in that overseas thing.”

“I hope she isn't all proper after being in Japan so long,” Jean laughed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I take so long to update. Life is still turbulent. Kick my butt on Tumblr. nug-humping-dirt-farmer.tumblr.com

Here's the situation, Jean had the biggest crush on Mikasa (apart from the times he was almost kissing Marco) before she moved to Japan. It was his first crush and he was convinced him and Mikasa were going to be wed one day. Naturally, the fact that Marco knew all of those past feelings made him slightly nervous about Mikasa's return. The fact that Jean wasn't the dweeb who wore Hawaiian shirts anymore didn't help. Now he was at the top of the high school food chain. Jean was hot and sweet and all the other adjectives Marco spent hours listing in his mind late at night.

* * *

“Welcome back!” Eren and Jean shouted as they leaped from their hiding spot behind the floral sofa. Jazz hands waved at Mikasa as she opened the front door.

Mikasa dropped her suitcase. Her hair flowed behind her as she ran into Eren's outstretched arms. “I've missed you!” she almost cried. Mikasa and Eren had always had an extremely close relationship. Mikasa being so far away for so long put a strain on both of their hearts. (You'd never hear either of them admit how difficult it was for them to be apart though.)

“You only called everyday,” Eren teased, embracing his sister, breathing in her familiar sent. “Not to mention all the letter and packages.” Their house was like a home again now that she was back. The hurt she left behind seemed to mend at the sight of her. Both of their parents were smiling now.

“Hey Jean,” she added, her tone of voice becoming sweeter as she looked him up and down, “how have you been?”

“I've been alright. Just been keeping your brother,” here he nudged Eren to the side a little bit, “out of trouble.”

“I'm assuming that wasn't an easy job,” she grinned.

“Hey!” Eren interjected.

Jean laughed. “How are you? How was Japan? Did they turn you into a proper lady?”

“It was fantastic. I feel like I've been reborn.” She looked it too. Her hair had a glow that it was lacking before. An exotic light shone from her eyes onto everything she looked at. She hadn't gotten any taller, but the area around her held a power that was intimidating. Her skin was even more fair than it had been before she departed, it looked like pearls. “I actually practiced martial arts more than anything over there. I don't think I did any proper lady stuff,” she laughed.

“Yea, you look like one too,” Jean said. “Your hair look really nice...long like that. It's shiny,” he stammered as he watched her flip a length of her black hair behind her.

“I could say the same about you,” she smiled, eyes once again traveling down the expanse of his muscular form. “You look really good,” she continued.

“So,” Eren chimed in, “tell us about some of the major things that happened while you were away.”

They told stories the for the remainder of the surprise party. Eren and Jean shared their fighting stories when Mikasa grew tired of speaking (which didn't take very long).

“We should hang out sometime, Jean,” Mikasa flirted after the stories were all ended. 

“Yea, cool,” Jean said simply, oblivious of the advances being made towards him. 

* * *

“How was seeing Mikasa?” Marco asked curiously. 

“It was alright. We're going to hang out next week sometime.” Jean smiled, “ she said she wants to see the band practice.” The band was Jean's pride and joy; He'd show it off any chance he got. Marco knew that, but still he felt slightly uneasy at the thought of Mikasa hanging around with Jean. Especially sweaty, glistening Jean who was known to rip his shirt off during practice more often than not. Marco had been the target of Annie's complaints about it on more than one occasion during the math class they had together. 

_“It's so gross,” she groaned, “why does he have to rip his shirt off? It's not even that hot in his room. He's always so dramatic about it too.”  
“Why does it bother you so much?” Marco asked curiously, secretly wishing to see that sight.   
“It's just gross.” She made a gagging noise in the back of her throat.   
“Don't girls like shirtless band dudes?”   
“Well, I don't,” she defended.   
“Are you a lesbian or something?” Marco joked.   
“No! No, I'm not,” she snapped. “Whatever. Can you help me with number four? I'm stuck.” _

“Finish him,” the television sounded. 

“Ha! I beat you!” Jean shouted as his character killed off Marco's with a round kick to the face. 

“Yup,” Marco sighed, tossing the controller onto the bed in front of him. 

“What's the matter?” Jean asked, concerned. “You normally get so mad when I beat you.”

“Nothing,” Marco lied. 

“Doesn't seem like nothing.” Jean prodded poked at the ticklish spots on Marco's sides. 

Giggling, Marco pushed Jean's hands away. “I wanna watch band practice...” he pouted. 

“Come when Mikasa does then,” Jean offered.

Marco smiled. “Okay...And you cheated that last round. You totally elbowed me and made my fingers slip.”

“I did not,” Jean protested. All of the protesting morphed into playful shoves and wrestling. Somewhere in the midst of it all Jean rolled on top of Marco, his flushed faces inches away from Marco's. Carefully, Jean moved closer to Marco, eyes on his plump, pink lips. Then they kissed. It was awkward at first until they relaxed into each other. They passed some time that way, their lips reluctant to part from each other. 

“Jean,” Marco sighed. 

Jean made an answering 'mmm' sound in his throat.

“Be my boyfriend?” 

“Marco...No one knows,” Jean began with a certain sadness in his eyes. 

“Okay...Be my secret boyfriend,” Marco revised.

Jean nodded. A smile formed on his lips. 

“What's that? I couldn't hear you,” Marco teased as he poked at Jean's muscular torso. 

“Yes!” Jean almost sang. Laughing, he kissed Marco again. He nuzzled Marco's nose with his own. “I really like you, Marco.”

“I really like you too,” Marco echoed, going in for another kiss. “You are worth waiting for.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know where I'm going with this fic anymore. I wouldn't even keep writing it if people weren't reading it.   
> Have this shitty chapter thing while I try to develop the plot line though. I'll try to update soon-ish. xoxo

During the course of the only song with a title, Kill All of Them, Jean pulled his shirt off over his head . Annie rolled her eyes. Suddenly, Mikasa lowered her phone from her face, becoming very interested in band practice. Marco entertained fantasies involving Jean and his exposed chest.

A film of sweat was glistening on Jean's exposed skin by the time practice came to an end. He was panting as a strutted over to where Mikasa and Marco were sitting. He tossed a t-shirt on each of their laps. Marco already knew what they were – Jean had been excitedly rambling about the shirts since he placed the order for them. The material was black, of course, and soft cotton. On the front 'Attack on Titan' was written in blood splatters over the face of a huge, grotesque creature.

Mikasa smiled a little too big at the punk band's shirt. Almost immediately she pulled the shirt on over the red tank top she was wearing. (A tank top that Marco thought was trying a little too hard to show off cleavage. And working a little too well at showing off said cleavage.) 

Marco slipped his shirt on too. “Huh, it looks good with the collar,” Jean mused aloud as he gazed at Marco, pointing at the collar of the button up shirt that was sticking up through the head hole of the band shirt. Mikasa cleared her throat. “Yea, it looks good on you too,” he said as he glanced over to her. Her grin widened. 

Marco's eyes flicked over to her, rolling them, he spoke, “I have to go back home so I can do my homework.”

“Why can't you do it here?” Jean quizzed.

“I didn't bring my books.”

Jean nodded. “I'll walk you out.” 

With a small peck, Marco left Jean standing in the frame of the front door. “I'll call you!” he shouted at the freckled boy's back. 

Marco waved his hand, giggling quietly.

As soon as Jean re-entered his room, mikasa was on him like stink on shit. She clung to his arm as he walked over to Eren and Annie. “I talked to Ymir about joining the band. She's killer on the guitar,” Annie informed the group. 

“But I play guitar,” Jean whined.

“We can have two guitarists. Or Ymir can play guitar and you can do the weird shit you like to do with the mic,” Annie pointed out. 

Jean shrugged, “alright. I'll see you guys on Friday then.”

Annie nodded. “Come on, brat, I'll drive you home,” she said to Eren as she eyed Mikasa. 

“Thanks,” Mikasa said with a small nod. 

Narrowing his eyes slightly at the oblivious Jean, Eren agreed, “I'm not a fucking brat but okay.“

The two bickered all the way out the door. Jean chuckled deep in his throat. Looking over to Mikasa, he stated, “I didn't know you wanted to chill after practice.” 

“I think it'd be nice too,” she said quietly. 

“Alright. Well, can we go grab a bite to eat? I'm starved,” Jean asked, rubbing his stomach in a comical way.

“Sure, wanna hit McDonalds?” 

Jean answered yes before she even finished saying the word 'Mcdonalds'. “I have a thing for Mcdonalds. Let's get going?”

Mikasa nodded. 

The ride was quiet for the most part. Jean spent the time realizing the advances Mikasa had been making over the course of the night. Then he thought of how Marco must have felt about his being around Mikasa at all. His thoughts were further mixed by the fact that two people actually wanted him at the same time. Thoughts of his closeted sexuality joined the mix. By the time Mikasa pulled into the drive through, Jean was ready to pull his hair out. “What do you want?” Mikasa's voice brought him back into the current moment. 

“Uhm, I have money, so I'll pay,” he offered. “I want a big mac, a spicy chicken sandwich, a large fry, and an Oreo Mcflurry. Oh, and a medium cola.”

Mikasa glanced over at him. “Do you work out?” she asked, spurred by his large order.

“Yea, why?”

“Just wondering because you look great but you're eating shit.” She ordered a berry smoothie and a chicken wrap for herself. 

They parked in the parking lot, both agreeing on eating in the car since it was a nice night and Jean wanted to escape the confines of his house for a bit. Small talk and the buzz of pop station radio filled the car. Jean turned the channel to the local rock station and turned it up slightly. “I can't stand that pop shit,” he groaned. 

Mikasa rolled her eyes as she took a big bite out of her wrap. “Punk in all senses of the word, then?” she asked. 

“I guess so,” Jean chuckled.

“That's cool,” she bobbed her head. After she took the last few bites of her wrap, she started fixing her hair in the rearview mirror.

“Why do girls mess with their hair so much?” Jean asked stupidly.

“Because we want to look good.” 

“Why?”

To this, Mikasa didn't answer. She leaned over towards Jean, closer and closer to his face until her lips were hovering in front of his own. Jean's eyes widened as her lips pressed against his own. Unthinking, he returned the gesture. She pulled away moments later. Jean's mind raced to Marco. Oh god, how was Marco going to feel? Unsure of what to say, he ate a big spoonful of his McFlurry and looked away. 

Mikasa giggled. 

“What?” Jean asked, his mouth still partially full. 

“You're so cute.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“We should go out again sometime.”

“Yea...I should get back though. I should get some homework done,” he panicked. 

“Alright,” Mikasa sighed as she put the car into gear. Jean finished up his McFluffy In silence on the car ride home. Mikasa's mind raced with worries of having messed up the first move. She kept glancing over at distracted Jean. “So, I'll see you at school tomorrow?” she said quietly as they pulled into Jean's driveway. 

_Shit_ , Jean thought. “Yea, see ya,” he said.


End file.
